Chapter 1

1

I sang as I worked in my kitchen, prepping some veggies for the salads I’d take in my lunches. Chicken grilled in a pan with butter and garlic gave me some protein, and fruit I’d already cubed and put into containers, a sweet finish. My little helpers scurried about giving me a paw, the troupe of mice—who’d been my constant companions since my teens—chirping in harmony with my song.

Some might question my allowing rodents to touch my food. To them I said nothing. I wasn’t the confrontational type. Let them have their opinion. My mice were family and no dirtier than anyone else. Possibly even cleaner than some people I’d met in my life.

A peek at the window showed more of my friends, the robins, hoping for some treats. I threw up the sash, the screen in it long gone, and dumped a handful of seed in front of them and got some happy chirps in reply.

Those familiar with the Cinderella curse would understand my affinity for animals and the fact they were drawn to me. Always had been, even before my unfortunate encounter with the prince. When I jilted the old royal, I’d worried I’d lose my woodland friends. However, despite beating my curse, my gift and friends remained.

Once I finished my meals for the week and stowed them in the fridge, I pulled out some cheese, already cut into chunks, and the mice cheered—which for the curious emerged as a higher-pitched chirp.

As I fed them and thanked them by name—Rosy, Dora, Lester, Orville, Petunia, and Fred—the air got a strange electric feeling.

Then poof!

A woman of mature years, her silver hair bound in a bun, her face aged and yet smooth, appeared in my kitchen, wearing a billowy gown and holding a wand.

My fairy godmother, whom I’d not seen since I beat my curse.

“Oh no, not you again.” Not exactly polite, but I couldn’t stop the complaint from slipping out.

“It has been a while,” Godmother agreed.

“Not long enough,” I muttered. I’d matured since then from a young girl of eighteen to one in her thirties.

My expression must have shown my displeasure, because Godmother huffed, “Most people would be happy to have a fairy godmother whose task is to make your wishes come true.”

At her claim, I frowned and shook my head. “I already got my wish. I graduated from the Fairytale Academy with honors and have a great job with the bureau.”

“But you’re still single.”

“I’m aware, but that doesn’t mean I want or need a prince.” Give me a normal man, one not bound to me by a curse.

To my surprise, Godmother smiled. “In that case, I’ve come to the right place.”

“Excuse me?” I blinked at her odd reply.

“I want someone who is willing to reject the prince.”

“I’m confused.”

“I realize this might sound strange, but I’m here to help you escape your curse, permanently. But it won’t be easy. The Grimm Effect has been more virulent of late.”

“I’m aware.” The escalation began a few months ago and I’d been one of the first to notice at the bureau—AKA the Fairytale Bureau, in charge of minimizing difficulties that arose as the Grimm Effect forced people to follow its stories. Many of those who’d managed to evade their Grimm curse had been finding themselves entangled in a new version, one darker than before—darker being kinder than saying bloody. A desperate edge had begun appearing as people, in the throes of magical compulsion, went to greater, more violent extremes to satisfy the terms of their curse.

Take my friend and colleague, Blanche Hood. She’d been embroiled in a serial murder mystery that resulted in her having to kill the huntsman, and now she lived happily with the wolf.

“It would seem the Grimm Effect isn’t done with you,” Godmother announced.

I shook my head. “But I’m not interested in completing my story. Hence you’re wasting your time. Surely there’s some other Ash Girl who’d welcome your aid?”

“Not any like you. And trust me, I’m not happy about my role. Like many people in this world, I am bound by the Grimm Effect and forced to do its bidding.” Godmother’s lips turned down.

“Oh, I didn’t realize.”

Godmother nodded. “There was a time when I thought by complying with the stories, I could perhaps put an end to it. Alas, the magic powering the Grimm Effect has only gotten stronger. But there is good news. Some of the tales have been eradicated and those caught in them freed.”

“Eradicated how?” I asked with a frown.

“I’m not sure. At first, I thought it a fluke, that the magic petered out for those particular tales. However, it appears that some have managed to counter their misfortune to the point it cancels the story entirely. For example, we recently had a Red Cap who somehow managed to wipe out that storyline entirely.”

“So it’s true,” I murmured. “I’d noticed that the current Red Cap cases had pretty much vanished but thought perhaps we’d just not been very good at detecting new ones.”

“It and a few others are no longer of concern, but of more importance, it means the Grimm Effect can be beaten!” Godmother’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Which is great, but you said you don’t know how.”

Her lips turned down. “I wish I had a simple answer. I can only assume that those involved in those particular cases did something so completely out of the norm that the magic couldn’t handle it.”

“I rejected the prince, but that didn’t stop the Cinderella curse,” I pointed out.

“Because that’s obviously not the key to ceasing that particular tale.”

“Any suggestions?” Because I really didn’t want to have to fend off princes the rest of my life, which technically should be easy as long as I didn’t attend any balls.

“I don’t have any ideas, yet, but given the magic sent me here to force you back into that particular storyline, I’m thinking we have a chance to figure it out.”

I arched a brow. “We?”

“I’d like to help you.”

“Help me how, exactly?”

“That’s the problem. No idea. I’m afraid we’ll have to wing it, dear girl. But maybe together we can find a way to beat your curse.”

“I don’t know what you think you can do. I’m not even sure why you’re here. I haven’t been invited to any balls, and I’m not aware of any visiting princes.”

Knock. Knock.

I swiveled to eye my door, mostly because people rarely knocked. My apartment, a massive, converted attic in a triplex, had too many stairs for most to brave.

The mice chittered, and my pet iguana, Izzy, padded to the door and stuck his tongue under the bottom edge before making a noise. Those who didn’t have my gift would have heard a hiss. Me, I understood I had a delivery person waiting outside. Odd since I’d not ordered anything.

“Are you going to answer?” Godmother asked.

A part of me didn’t want to. I feared what lay on the other side. Unlike Belle, another friend and colleague, and Blanche, I lacked courage. I avoided conflict. Often said yes to things I didn’t want to just to appear agreeable.

Hence why I opened the door to see a man in uniform, not the kind used by the postal service or even any of the package delivery companies. The man at my door wore navy blue trimmed in silver with black knee-high boots and crisp, white gloves.

“Miss Cinderella Jones?” he queried.

“Yes. Can I help you?”

He held out a large envelope of white, embossed in silver and sealed in dark blue wax.

My stomach plummeted.

“This is for you.” He held it out, and I didn’t grab it.

“What is it? Who’s it from?” I asked instead.

“His Royal Highness, Prince Killian the First, is formally inviting you to his fortieth birthday ball.”

“No thank you.” I politely refused.

“I’m sorry, miss. I think you misunderstand. This invitation is an honor.”

“No, I understand perfectly and am simply not interested. Have a nice day.” I shut the door and leaned against it as if the courier would force his way in and make me take the invitation.

He didn’t. Instead, he slid it under my door so it could mock me.

My fairy godmother remained in my kitchen, sitting on a stool, feeding cheese to the mice, who didn’t care it came from a stranger.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” she asked.

“No, because I’m not going.”

“If you say so.”

“I’m not,” I insisted.

“You know the curse won’t let you off that easily.”

Maybe not, but it was worth a try.